


Confessions of a Butler

by FreshPrincessofCheyne



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Humor, M/M, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5270804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshPrincessofCheyne/pseuds/FreshPrincessofCheyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone in the family pulls a prank on Bruce, involving Batman statues. It soon leads to a family meeting, the culprit someone no one would have expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confessions of a Butler

**Author's Note:**

> I based this off of the fact that they're making real life Batman statues (which is actually kind of creepy), so I thought it'd be funny to write something like this. I'm tired and it's not proof-read, so hopefully it turns out well. Just something for fun, and I wanted to try writing everyone together as a big family, and all the chaos the kids cause, lol. Hope you enjoy!!

Bruce woke up in the middle of the night and untangled himself from Clark, his stomach grumbling. He found his way across his dark bedroom, managing to avoid the mess with ease. Alfred was always telling the two to pick up a bit (Clark usually did right after Alfred confronted them, while Bruce just left Clark to do it), but most of the time the two were always in a rush, either it be an emergency or the need to get rid of their clothes as fast as possible and leave them lying around.

Bruce found his robe lying across the chair in the corner of the room and pulled it on, tying it before making his exit. Only, when he opened the door, he wasn't greeted to an empty hallway, but to _Batman_?

He jumped back, his arms raised defensively, his heart pounding in his chest. He slipped on the hardwood flooring, struggling to keep his balance. “ _Jesus_ , fuck!” Clark jolted upward, the blankets falling to the floor as he got to his feet, his eyes blurry.

“Bruce?” He spoke groggily, concerned. “What is it? What happened?” He reached to turn the lamp on, eyeing his husband, standing tense and bat-glaring- _Batman_? After he could catch his breath, he turned to Clark, his arms crossed once he realized it was just a statue. Clark could feel himself relax too, although it didn't really seem appropriate to do so at the moment. 

“Clark, what the hell is that abomination?” He snapped, pointing at the statue standing menacingly in the doorway. The smirk that lifted Clark's lips made Bruce want to slap it off of him.

“I don't know what to tell you, B. I don't have a clue. But, it _does_ have everything right,” he said, studying it from head to toe. Even the utility belt was similar. 

“You think this is funny? I mean, what are the point of toilets if shit like this happens?" Bruce muttered angrily, his brows furrowed. Clark was at his side in a second, his fingers playing with the belt of the silk blue robe. “Things can't get any weirder than this and I've seen some weird shit,” he added, narrowing his eyes at the statue that (surprisingly), had some impressive detail, including in its face.

Clark kissed away his frown. “I honestly didn't have anything to do with it, Bruce,” he reassured. “Why don't you ask the kids tomorrow?”

“I don't think so. I'm going to wake them up now.” Before Bruce could make his retreat, Clark was pulling him back to bed by his arm.

“Let them sleep. We can deal with it in the morning,” he said, leaning down to kiss Bruce's cheek.

Bruce sighed. “Alright. But, I refuse to sleep with that damned... _spawn_ looking at me. Get rid of it.” As he settled back into bed, his appetite seemingly non-existent since recently, he watched Clark hesitantly pull the Batman statue into the walk-in closet. Then, he got an idea.

“Hey, Bruce? Look.” Bruce cocked his eyebrow as Clark put the statue in the closet, hid behind it, then had it peek out, maneuvering the statue's head to look directly at Bruce. He then placed the Batman doll outside the closet. “Get it?” He said. “It's you, coming out of the closet.”

Bruce reached for a book he had been reading on his nightstand and hurled it at Clark's head.

“Fuck you, Kent. I want a divorce.” Bruce rolled over and pulled the covers he retrieved from the floor over his head.

“Uh huh.” the soothing voice was right next to him, and it was dark again, arms wrapping around him protectively. Despite his annoyance, Bruce's heart leaped at the gesture. Clark was always making sure Bruce was safe, no matter where they were. “You say that at least twice a day and I don't see any divorce papers.”

“I'm getting Alfred to burn your pancakes tomorrow morning,” came Bruce's muffled voice.

“Mhm,” Clark removed the covers from Bruce's head to capture his lips with his own. “Night, my beautiful B.”

Bruce grumbled and rolled over again, his eyes closed. “I love you,” he said quietly. He felt Clark's lips on the back of his neck, humming softly.

“I love you.” Before Bruce relaxed into Clark's arms, he could hear snickering. He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. 

“What's so funny, Clark?” When he received no response, he opened his eyes, only to be face-to-face with the Batman statue, looming over him.

“ _Clark Joseph Kent_!”

______

 

The next morning, Bruce was alone in his bed, sheets on the floor and he was missing a husband. He rubbed his eyes and got up, winced when his back ached, and made his way downstairs. Usually by now the kids were doing their own things and Alfred was somewhere cleaning something the kids broke, while Clark read the newspaper and made coffee. Only, he didn't even like coffee, he made it because he knew Bruce liked it. As cute as it was, Bruce knew it wasn't the only reason. Bruce was a bastard to deal with in the morning if he didn't get at least two cups of coffee.

Sadly, Clark learned the hard way one day when Bruce threw his coffee at his face for testing his patience. One thing Clark noticed about his husband, was that when he got angry, he tended to throw whatever was in his hands. One time he was holding Damian by the scuff of the shirt because of something he did and well, Clark knew what was coming the second Bruce gave him those eyes and chucked a _child_ at him.

Bruce padded his way down the stairs and into the spacious kitchen, enjoying the silence. The kids were always reeking havoc and talking so loud and that was partly the reason Bruce had been so cranky lately. He turned to the pantry and opened the door, his scream of terror enough to make Clark drop his cup of orange juice as his fist shot out on instinct.

“Bruce?” He glanced up, only to burst into laughter as Bruce's fist contacted with another Batman statue.

“This is bullshit! Where do they keep coming from?” He hollered, his heart beating crazily as he kicked the statue. “They're spawning all over the damn place!” It began to fall and Bruce _just_ got out of the way as it crashed to the floor. “You knew it was there, didn't you? That's why you were so damn quiet,” Bruce accused, his electric blues eyes wide and very awake now.

Clark was still laughing. “I just think it's kind of ironic; you're getting scared of Batman and you _are_ Batman. Hey, the statues are even taller than you, I didn't notice until now.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes into slits. “That's it.” Bruce went to the stairs, his hand coming down to rest on the railing.

“Uh, oh,” Clark murmured, folding his newspaper and coming to stand at Bruce's side. “Bruce, do you really-”

“ _Hush_ , Clark,” he interrupted harshly. “Family meeting! _Now_!” Bruce bellowed up the stairs, knowing that on a Saturday, his kids would still be in bed or just waking up. “Clark, get that other spawn and bring it in the living room.”

As Bruce moved one of the statue's, Clark carried down the other one. He placed it next to the one Bruce had his hand on. Damian was the first one to enter the living room, giving Bruce a short and simple, “Good Morning, father.” Then Jason and Dick came down, still rubbing their eyes and grumbling. Cass came down with Steph and Barbara (she stayed the night with the girls), trailing behind her, Tim following shortly after. Then last, Kon and Kara came running down, arguing over something Bruce was going to put a stop to right away. Alfred was the last one in, standing by the door with his eyebrows raised in amusement, but didn't question the fact that Bruce stood in the middle of two Batman statues.

“What the hell are these?” Bruce asked, silencing the room as everyone squirmed and tried to get comfortable as they all squished together on the two couches. 

“It's Batman- well, _Batmen_ , obviously,” Jason answered. “Hmph. Maybe with _three_ Batmen, I could've actually been saved in time. The more the merrier, I guess.”

“ _Jason_!” Dick and Stephanie said simultaneously.

“Jason, now's not the time,” Bruce said.

“You're telling me,” he said, standing up and trying to drag Dick with him. Bruce pointed a finger at Jason, who only mumbled something he couldn't hear. Dick must have heard it though, because he elbowed him in the side.

“Sit down. Now, I want to know who keeps putting these things around.” Bruce and Clark both studied all their children, searching for any signs of who the culprit might be.

“And where the hell are these even _made_? Who authorized this?” Bruce added.

“You're the detective, figure it out,” Jason said, earning him a glare that made him zip his lips.

“It wasn't us,” Cass spoke up, motioning to herself, Steph, Kara and Barb. “We were in my room all night.” The girls agreed.

“Bullshit,” Kon said.

“ _Language_ ,” Clark warned sternly.

Kon rolled his eyes. “The girls are always up to something.”

“I second that,” Tim added, leaning forward.

“I third it,” said Dick.

“Fourth.” Jason.

“Fifth.”

“Damian!” Kara said, shocked at the betrayal. “You traitor!”

“Sorry,” Damian said with a shrug. Bruce placed his index finger and his thumb on the bridge of his nose. The only thing stopping him from losing it was the comforting hand that rubbed circles in his back and the occasional lips that kissed his. Usually the kids made gross noises and left the room in a hurry whenever Bruce and Clark got too physical, but right now, they were too busy arguing amongst themselves to notice their parent's affection. And if Bruce sometimes made out with Clark in front of everyone to get a room to themselves and some damn _peace and quiet_ once in a while, he wasn't going to deny it.

“Yeah,” Kon said. “Bros before hoes.” Kara got to her feet and stood in front of Kon, bringing her fist back. Just as she was going to snap it forward and hopefully break Kon's nose, something stopped her.

“Sit down, Kara,” Clark demanded, letting go of her tight fist. “You can punch him later.”

“Dad,” Kon whined.

“Oh, be quiet. You can take a hit, especially after that comment.”

“You kind of deserve it,” Jason said to Kon, who rolled his eyes. “Don't you agree, Replacement?” Jason put an arm around Tim's shoulder. He shrugged it off, scowling.

“You know something, Jason?” Tim said.

“What's that, Replacement?” Jason smirked; he knew he was hitting a nerve. He loved to torment the kid.

Tim gritted his teeth. “Whenever I'm feeling bad about myself, I think of you and I suddenly feel like someone who _actually_ matters.”

“ _Tim_!” Bruce yelled.

Jason only threw his head back and laughed. “Don't fret over it, old man,” he said to Bruce. “He's gotten good, give him some credit.”

“The next one to utter a word isn't allowed to leave the manor. For _anything_ ,” Bruce ordered, earning a chorus of protests and whines. He put one finger up and everyone fell silent again. “You might want to thank Clark because if he wasn't here, that wouldn't be the only punishment you'd be receiving. Now, back to the matter at hand.” Bruce motioned to the statues. “Explain. Where did these come from?” When the kids remained silent, averting their gaze, Bruce growled. “Alright, if one of you doesn't speak up in about one second, _none_ of you will leave the manor. How about that?”

Right after the words left his mouth, Kara spoke up, sacrificing herself. “It was me,” she said solemnly, her head bowed. The other girls glanced at her in confusion and surprise.

“Called it!” Kon said smugly, earning a slap to the head from Tim.

“Shut up, Conner,” Tim snapped. “For God's sake, just shut up for once in your miserable life.” Before Bruce could cut in, another one spoke up.

“It was me,” Steph. Then Cass, then Barbara said the same thing. That was when the boy's seemed to catch on and they joined in as well, admitting to the prank. Bruce looked at Clark for help with the situation, his eyes revealing his exhaustion. Clark shrugged and focused his attention on the room as it broke into chaos, everyone fighting and throwing pillows, kids being hurled over couches. Bruce glanced up at the ceiling as he heard a vase crash to the floor and shatter.

“Clark, please stop me if I consider commiting murder. Please just stop me," 

Bruce was saying, his jaw clenched. His husband just leaned forward to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Cassandra and Jason were face-to-face by then, their fists at their sides.

“Girls! Boys!” Clark stepped in, but everyone ignored him.

“I never liked you, Todd,” Cass was sneering.

“Me and you; another round,” Jason threatened. “I'll show you who's the boss.”

Barb scoffed. “You know for a fact it's her, Jason.”

“Damn straight,” Kara added.

Dick stepped in. “You know yourself that's bullshit.”

“Shut up, Richard,” Barb said. Those two were now standing with the tips of their toes touching, glaring at each other.

“Come on, that's enough.” Clark got in the middle of the line of girls and the line of boys. At once, everyone turned to him.

“ _Shut up, Clark_!” They all said simultaneously, Kon's voice the loudest. He put his arms up and backed up, standing at Bruce's side, who was practically tearing his hair out of his head. He gave Bruce a _I-tried_ shrug.

“Nice try, boys. But you know we could kick your asses and look good while doing it,” Stephanie smirked, her hands resting on her hips.

“Got that right,” Barbara agreed.

“ _Tt_. You're on,” Damian presented as they all began to fight again. Before Bruce could put a stop to a world war that was undoubtedly going to happen, Alfred cleared his throat.

 “Master Bruce?” Alfred spoke up over the ruckus, his tone humorous. 

“Yes, Alfred?”

“May I say who I think it is that did such a horrible act?” Bruce glanced skeptically at Alfred. He sensed sarcasm in the man's voice. At Alfred's words, everyone paused, punches aimed but not thrown, hair being pulled and kicks put to a halt. They all focused their attention on the butler. “It was me, Master Bruce, who purchased the statues to intentionally scare you, as you have done so to me on multiple occasions. I was simply- what's that way they put it nowadays?- ah, yes, ' _gettin' you back_ '.”

Bruce chuckled and shook his head, waving a finger at him. “Very funny, Alfred.”

“I'm quite serious. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the kitchen preparing breakfast.” Alfred turned and took two steps before stopping. He glanced over his shoulder. “And Master Bruce? _April Fool's_. I figured it was getting a little dull in here and you needed something to keep you on your toes.” He winked. As Bruce gave his kids a hard stare, they all scattered like bugs, running in different directions, admitting defeat. They weren't afraid of each other, but when their father decided to whoop some ass, they'd rather be as far away as possible from him. 

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “You know I can fire you, right?” Bruce should have known it was Alfred. He was always pulling something on April Fool's, like the time he told Bruce he drew him a bath and when Bruce was all excited to finally relax in a nice warm, bubble bath, there wasn't a bath at all and the old man held up a picture of a bath he drew, smug as shit but still somehow remaining stoic. 

Alfred put his hands behind his back and said as he left the room, “Not in this life time, sir.”

As Alfred left, Bruce let himself collapse on the couch, sighing tiredly. “What a morning. Batman statues -I'd still like to know who the hell makes them so I can file a lawsuit- the boys starting a war with the girls, and Alfred- _Alfred_!- being the one who did it. That man has a strange sense of humor,” Bruce rambled.

Clark fell next to him. “You're telling me. Remind me to let you punish them as hard as you want next time.”

Bruce laughed. “Why's that?”

“They all told me to shut up.” 

Bruce rested his head in the crook of his husband's neck and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Awh, did they hurt the fearless Superman's feelings?” Clark's husband teased.

“Ha, ha. Now come here,” Clark said playfully as he pulled Bruce on top of him, kissing him deeply.

“You know,” Bruce said as he kissed Clark's bare chest, “Despite all the fighting and headaches, I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Clark hummed in agreement. “Me either. We've made our own little-” at the look Bruce gave him, he corrected himself- “- _big_ family. Am I ever glad I proposed to you.”

Bruce smiled against Clark's skin. “It wasn't like you made me wait forever or anything.”

“I was nervous; sue me. You didn't peg me as the type to get married.”

“For you, I made an exception.” Just as they went to lock lips, there was the sound of breaking glass in the other room and profanities. Bruce was positive he could hear Alfred sigh.

The two laughed breathlessly, their lips brushing. “Come on,” Bruce said, dragging Clark off the couch, walking towards the commotion with their fingers laced. “We get the lovely job of coming up with creative ways to punish our children.”

Clark smiled. “Sounds like a good weekend of family bonding to me.”

Bruce smirked. “Good thinking. Maybe I'll let you punish them from now on.”

“I was joking- Do they actually hate family-bonding-time?” The man literally sounded heartbroken; bless his soul. 

He raised an eyebrow. “You seriously didn't know? Oh, Clark,” Bruce sighed. “I love you.” Bruce just _had_ to stand on his tippy-toes to kiss away the man's beautiful frown.

“I love you, too,” Just as Clark went to kiss Bruce back, a group of huddled, tip-toeing kids caught his attention. “ _Hey_! Is that my laptop?” Clark let go of Bruce to chase after the boys who ran off, holding the laptop like it was another life, shouting at each other to run faster.

Bruce watched after them fondly as Clark chased the kids around, the girls eventually joining in as they came up with plans to hide from Clark.

“Quite a family you've pulled together, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, standing at his side.

“Mhm,” he agreed. “I'm very proud of it.”

“As am I.” It was silent between the two for a moment. “You're considering firing me, aren't you, sir?”

“You're never wrong, Alfred,” Bruce teased.

“Couldn't agree more. Now, another thing I know I'm right about; you've done one hell of a good job raising this family.”

Bruce smiled. “Thank you, Alfred. I couldn't have done it without you.”

“No, you couldn't have. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I burnt your pancakes.”

Bruce stared after Alfred in surprise; had he heard their conversation earlier? Then Bruce glanced around as if Clark was listening and said, “Give those ones to Clark. He likes them burnt; trust me.”

Alfred laughed dryly. “Whatever you say, Master Bruce.”


End file.
